[wherever you started off, each of you wanders deeper and deeper into the fog. the woods surround you, the tall looming trees of the forest the only thing you can make out. tall dark pine trees and twisted gnarled oaks. the sky that manages to filter through the treetops is dark, though you can’t tell if you’ve been wandering so long that night has fallen, or if the gray is just more fog. there’s no clear path to follow, and you step through bog and dark mud. but you have a strong and powerful sense that there is something dangerous in these woods, and you must not let the fog catch up with you. you shouldn’t stop. even if you’re tired of walking, you need to keep going.
eventually, however, the dense trees start to clear little by little. you can see that you’ve wandered much farther than should have been possible. there are mountains springing up, both ahead and behind you, a tall and looming range of white rocked peaks from a range that looks impassable. at some point during this journey, some of you find each other; perhaps you’re relieved that you aren’t alone here, and perhaps you help one another make it through the difficult and long day of walking or try to navigate. or maybe you’ve been alone all day, and you’ve only just now stumbled upon the others who have also been lost. that’s up to you.
what’s clear now the only way ahead is to follow where the trees start to clear, giving way to patches of farmland, and, further ahead, a medieval city. there’s a little town made of thatched cottages and farmhouses, walls with towers meant for archers and soldiers to sit and wait, and beyond, up on a hill, is a castle built from gleaming white brick that looks somehow grimy all the same. there’s also, in the center of town, a massive oak tree, visible even from this distance. the city doesn’t look welcoming. the dark gray clouds still hang heavy in the air, and the pale colors of the stone and brick of the city give a mostly monochrome effect, broken up only by the colors of mud and dirt. there’s a chill in the air, and you don’t see any people about. there should be farmers tilling the land, but the patches of crops look withered; the little cottages seem abandoned, and there’s a smell like vegetable rot hanging heavy in the air. the city ahead of you, from what you can make out, would normally be bustling with shops and travelers and activity, or even simply manned by guards, but you don’t see anyone.
but the gates to the city are open. there’s a path that heads directly through them towards the center of town, towards the castle and the tall tree. you have a bad feeling about this place. it seems dead, and there’s something malevolent about it, too. but you’ve been walking for so long, and the fog hanging heavy in the woods, creeping close behind you, at least does not seem to stop at the edge of the city walls. maybe you can rest here.]
[ Pickles had been running and running and running. If there's anything about the fog, it's that he doesn't want to be out there, engulfed in it from what he heard from the events of last Thursday night. The city might not be welcoming, but Pickles finally stops here. He thinks he needs water.
So when he reaches the center of the town, he tries to break into one of the buildings. He's thirsty. Give him some water!! ]
[ Geto had probably been in the fog a while, aware that he's lost, but opting to approach the situation steadily. Marking trees to track his path, and climbing up the branches to gain a better view of his surroundings. It doesn't matter. In the end, he stays as lost as ever, driven by an urge to escape and keep going.
The unease doesn't stop when the city and the mountains come into view, but at least the sight of Pickles bounding on ahead is a welcome distraction, and he hurries after him.
... But doesn't approach. He hangs back, and just watches Pickles do whatever Pickles is doing, because he's still suspicious of everything. What if Pickles had been evil this entire time. ]
[ after being trapped at the pyre by the fog on thursday, alfyn is also not very keen to be wandering out in it. i leave it up to eric as to whether or not the theatermates have run into each other, but regardless - he's on the defensive, ready for any sort of trouble to come out at him from the fog and trees. he doesn't panic, though. traveling across all of orsterra has prepared him for strange or dangerous situations, and he's lucky to look at the city and think huh. that looks familiar.
all the way down to being unwelcoming. at least this is more familiar to him than most of what the village of scawwy has given them.
he sees the others and perks, hand behind himself and prepared to draw on any dangers but relieved to see familiar faces. ]
... is it just us? [ asked quietly, because. the energy is terrible here. gods, it really, really reminds him of somewhere back home... ] No townsfolk? No guards?
[todomatsu, you're waking up in your own bed. the memories of the village of scawwy, of what you saw at the tree and at the castle, were nothing but a nightmare. you're safe, back at home.
and today is a very special day. you wake up aware of something very exciting that's going to happen today. you were invited to something very exclusive, and you were the only one of your brothers to get an invitation.
[ the transition is abrupt and disorienting, but waking up in the familiar comfort of his modest six-person futon in his too-small bedroom feels better than he would have previously thought possible, and he's more than happy to write off everything from the past two weeks as a nightmare. (maybe it would be a little harder to do that if he thought about it more deeply — if he stopped to consider how he would have dreamed up these forty characters when there are barely that many in his whole anime, and that long of a consistent plotline when he's used to standalone episodes — but why would he want to dwell on it?)
much more importantly, this evening is the biggest mixer he's ever scored an invitation to! with so many girls in attendance (surely some of them are a little bit desperate) and none of the anxiety that comes up with being put on the spot during smaller events, he really thinks this is going to be it — the first big step on the path to losing his virginity and becoming a respectable adult!
he's already checked out the social media accounts of some of the girls he knows are going to be there so he can see what kinds of things they like and craft his identity accordingly. he's already memorized the discography and upcoming concert dates for a band one of them professes to love, even though he's never actually listened to a single one of their songs and wouldn't have the money to buy a concert ticket even if he cared to. that's not important. all that matters is that she likes the person she thinks he is, and he's ready to make that happen. ]
[he can learn some info about some of the girls who will be in attendance! it seems like some very popular influencer types are behind organizing this. atsushi did him a big favor helping him secure this invite; he's probably going to be insufferable about that. but it's definitely worth it; maybe it's a little nerve-wracking, because while it looks like there are some other "normal" people in attendance, there also might be some pretty high status people - minor celebrities, heirs, even some minor nobility - and it seems unusual they'd have an invite available for someone like him.
he probably could also ask about securing an invite for some of his brothers if he wanted to? it might be a nice event for them to attend, too. but that's up to him!]
[ how the fuck does atsushi meet these people. it's infuriating that this guy who came from the same place as him and looks like he could be his slightly more handsome cousin is this much more successful than him in every area of his life, and that he's stuck having to suck up to his smug ass to have any chance at climbing the social ladder himself.
the exclusivity of this guest list just solidifies that there is absolutely no way he's bringing any of his brothers to this thing, or even telling them it's happening. he remembers how his mixer auditions had gone all those years ago, and how horrifically things went the time he actually did let osomatsu come along. (fuck if he's going to end up scrubbing his ass with scallops in front of people with actual social clout.) their very existence is a sword of damocles threatening to drop down on the throne of his social life, and the best shot he has at fitting into this scene is to pretend they don't exist at all. ]
[pickles, you're waking up outside in the woods. the memories of the village of scawwy, what you saw at the tree and at the castle, all feel confusing and uncertain. did you have a nightmare? was any of that real? you aren't sure.
there's a soreness in your side, but you don't need any blood or injuries.
and you can smell something familiar. you don't know exactly where you are, but you can smell something that leads you to believe you can go somewhere safe, somewhere that feels like home, if you just walk a little further and follow that scent.
[ When Pickles wakes, he whines and does a full body shake. He's not sure what just happened. Was that really a nightmare? People dying, being hung, a cowboy robot that bled blue... He was given respect at Scawwy by some people. Of course it was a dream.
He stretches despite the sore side he feels and gets a whiff of something very familiar: Kenkel's crackers and a bowl of canned short ribs... It's his typical breakfast back home, prepared by Charlton. Right. There's no way Charlton would be dead. All of that was surely just a nightmare, even though Pickles has no idea why he woke up in the forest.
Pickles will go home, the little apartment where he lives with Charlton and Wendy. He can't wait to tell Wendy of what he dreamed, but he will make sure to leave out the violent details. ]
[pickles, you follow the scent back towards the apartment. it does smell like home, and you can see through the window charlton preparing a breakfast. he's putting out a bowl, and - well, look at that. it seems like a very cute little puppy is coming running, wagging his tail at the breakfast he's being served.]
the darkness fades away from your vision. for a moment, you were nothing. nothing enough that you wonder if that's what death must feel like? you consciousness slipping away entirely, dispersing, until you don't even have any thought or form. and then suddenly it all rushes back, but it's different now. you feel different.
your body feels cold and stiff. it doesn't move right. you still feel the squeeze around your throat, enough that you wonder whether gojo's hands are still squeezing the life out of you. but if you blink your eyes open, there's no one there.
no one at all. you're at the base of the tree, but alfyn isn't there with you, and you don't see gojo's body crumpled behind you. and all of those memories feel surreal. the village of scawwy, your life, all of it is a jumble, where you aren't sure what's real and what was a nightmare. there's a part of you that feels like you've always been here, in this place, and this is the only thing that's real.
if you turned around, perhaps you'd still see those bodies hanging from the limbs of the tree, and that would tell you what you'd imagined and what was real? but a thought comes to you suddenly. you must not turn around. the tree is behind you, but you must not look at it. if you look at it, you'll see something you're not sure you can bear.
what do you do? do you examine yourself? do you flee, get farther from whatever is behind you? do you try to turn around and look despite your better instincts?]
[ Geto gets up with a gasp, hand jumping to his throat to fight off whatever phantom pain still lingers there, but there's no hands or the weight of anyone pressing down on him.
It's quiet, and despite the dread that sits heavy in his chest and belly, that affords him a second to sort through his thoughts. Even if they don't make any sense. He can't quite remember what he is or what he's supposed to do, there's only fear: don't look at the tree, and Satoru is gone.
He has to keep a cool head. He'll take a quick look over himself—is the blood still on him?—and then push himself up, unsteady and confused. ]
Someone needed help.
[ He remembers vaguely people crying for help, and that he's supposed to help people in need, so he'll start making his way toward the castle where those voices were last heard. ]
[the splatters of blood is not still on him. but when he looks down at himself, he sees that he has a broken noose around his neck. that's the source of the pressure, it seems. there's even a red line around his neck, from where the noose had choked him. there is a little blood beneath his fingernails, and his body is sore and pained, like he's been beaten.
in general, though, he just doesn't feel quite like himself. it's odd and hard to place. there's sort of a pounding in his head. it sounds like a heart beat, beating slowly. ba-dum. ba-dum. ba-dum. but it isn't the sound of his own heart.
he can head towards the castle. there do appear to be people on the road, now - not the guards, but villagers. he could ask them for more information.]
the darkness fades away from your vision. for a moment, you were nothing. nothing enough that you wonder if that's what death must feel like? you consciousness slipping away entirely, dispersing, until you don't even have any thought or form. and then suddenly it all rushes back.
you're in your bed in a cottage. you remember scawwy, you remember the tree, but all of that feels like a jumbled nightmare. you're not sure if any of that was real or just a dream. and now you're where you belong, in your home, in this small medieval city where you are trusted to treat the sick and care for the injured. it's a city made of white bricks isolated behind a mountain range. and if part of you has memories of belonging somewhere else, similar but not the same, you've never really known why.
it's time to get up. surely you have patients to attend to. and there's a knocking at the door - perhaps it's someone in need.
what do you do? do you take a moment to think about what happened, or do you get to work?]
[ jerking upright, stilted, unsteady, alfyn's hand reaches out for the axe that's always at the bedside. monsters, thieves, briggands - you have to always be prepared. but he also looks for it because of the last memory, of splattered blood and screaming.
but none of it is here, in this humble cottage in the white walls of this familiar city. just home sweet home. it almost feels like the nightmare is leaving him, so maybe that's all it is - his mind making up new people, new troubles, giving him a scare. ]
Shucks... alright, okay. Face the day, Greengrass. [ the grip on the axe relaxes as he swings his legs around, rising to stand and ignoring the fact that he fell asleep in his clothes once again. it goes to its place in the back of his belt, before he grabs his satchel and heads to the door, drawling - ] Comin'! I gotcha, friend, just a moment.
[ he's a scruffy looking healer, and knows it, so he doesn't bother fixing himself up too much more. what if it's an emergency? he can't let a bad dream stop him from helping someone.
he opens the door, ignoring the post-nightmare dread still knotted just below his adam's apple. ]
[he opens the door and sees someone he knows outside - a traveler who came to town recently. some of the other villagers didn't think well of this man, but alfyn treated him. he's been recovering, and recently took a job at the castle.
at the moment, he looks to be in a rush.]
There's a problem at the castle. We need a healer. Can you come?
[alfyn and pickles, both of you have been alone in the woods for a very long time. but one day, you both take shelter in the same abandoned house and find each other.
alfyn, when you look at pickles, you see a monster. a dead, rotting creature with mangy fur falling off in black and white clumps, glazed eyes, big fangs. entrails dangle from the wounds on his side and he smells like decay. there's nothing about this animal to remind you of the dream you once had, a lifetime ago, of an adventure with a cute little dog named pickles.
pickles, the smell of this man is a little familiar, but you can't place it. he reminds you of blood and knives and a horrifying nightmare you once had about a tree and charlton's body swinging from a noose. there's something about him that gives off a malevolent aura; part of you wants to run.
but both of you have also been alone for a long time, and now you're here, in this space together. what do you do?]
[ The smell, while a little familiar, reminds Pickles of nothing pleasant (unfortunately). A part of him wants to run, to dash and never look back, but it's the first time he's seen a person in a long, long time that won't hurt him.
Maybe.
Though the the other person's reaction will decide Pickles's next action. ]
[ what a horrifying thing. alfyn's first instinct is to reach for his axe, reliable for getting him out of trouble in all the times that he's been attacked, driven away, found himself in deep shit.
but the creature doesn't do anything. so, he stops - because most things just attack him, or scream, or run away.
he thinks of matilda. and the voice that he can hear when he's most alone.
whatever happened to him, it wasn't her fault. she was a catalyst, yes, but it wasn't by her choice. she didn't want to disappear. ]
... hey, buddy. [ it's been a long time since he's spoken softly to anyone but matilda, he thinks. but he does now. and, as he does, he lifts his hand away from where his axe is behind him, holding it up to show that it's empty, that he comes in peace. ] I'm not gonna hurt you, if you don't hurt me. Alright?
[all four of you follow the twisting roots and the sensation that draws you towards the twisting tree. it rises from the center of something that looks a little like the town you were in earlier, but abandoned ruins, cracked stone and empty, haunted. it looks like a city abandoned after a battle, and then left that way with the blood soaking the streets and cracks in the rocks and houses for a hundred years, letting the plant life grow up around the broken houses and cracked streets. the tree rises above all of it, impossibly tall, its gnarled branches spreading out around you, its roots rising up through the ground.
the fog creeps in around you, and the night is pitch black, but there's a strange purple light, like an aurora, dancing and taking shape in the fog. the scent that hangs heavily in the air is of death. rot, like plant decay, but also the stench of blood and rotting corpses as well.
the massive tree no longer looks just like a tree to you; it's some sort of monster or spectre haunting this entire realm. and it's feeding, devouring the light. for pickles, geto, and alfyn, there's a sense of being drawn towards it. for todomatsu, there's a feeling of being pushed away. but either way, this is something alive and sentient.
all of you have clearer memories now. you remember your lives and you remember the village of scawwy. you remember what you saw on the tree and in the castle, and then how abruptly you shifted to another memory, another life, that didn't quite fit with anything that came before. you still have the objects you brought with you from your recent journey, however - alfyn, you have the doll, todomatsu, the knife you used to kill atsushi, geto, a blood soaked spear made of wood, pickles, a knife soaked in poison herbs. you can also feel the connection you have with your magic - your true abilities. totty, you don't have anything, both because you canonically don't and for another reason.
from the tree, dozens of ropes are hanging. you can see a few corpses hanging that you don't recognize, but you also see charlton, primrose, gojo, jyushimatsu, marina, rondo, camille, robin. all dead, swinging from the branches, wearing shapeless rags.
a flicker of the dark purple light sparks across the ground and begins to swirl into a torrent of ominous power that rises and coalesces into another shadowy form, a scattered, amethyst being of swirling haze and evil presence that begins to take the form of a woman, a silhouette that is familiar at this point to all of you.]
Welcome, welcome. I'm sorry for the deception, my dear little ones. But there's no need to be afraid. All of you want to leave this realm and return home, I'm sure. And I have the same goal. The fastest path to my interests lie in yours as well. I'm sure we can help one another, can't we?
[ They're back at the tree, and Geto focuses his gaze on the corpses, taking them in and trying to reconcile them with what he'd just seen already—his own hand striking down Camille moments ago without even realizing it.
Does his body still feel weird and not his own? He'll look over his hands too, to see if there are still spots of rotted skin.
[ you ever feel the reality of everything you've seen, done, and known just kind of crash down on top of you and systematically shut down everything, while also revving up a panic attack?
yeah, that's kind of what happens to alfyn as he stares up at the tree and realities collide. and he has to reckon with the fact that miguel's blood is on his hands twice, with the terrible sensation of bile at the back of his throat that he has to try and keep down. it didn't bring him joy the first time - it doesn't bring him joy this time, despite what the rage boiling over brought him to do. ]
... yeah. [ it comes out in a croak, throat tight. he's quickly checking geto, todomatsu - and then down to pickles, reaching out for the dog. IS HE STILL ZOMBIFIED? still, he has the wherewithal to say: ] ... I don't want any more help if it comes at the cost of others' lives.
[you journey through the portal in the tree and you arrive back at camp. where? how? that's up to you.
when you return, all four of you find yourselves slightly changed. you may not look quite as monstrous as you did on your journey, but you come back a little wrong. you may find, here and there, that your bodies are no longer breathing, your hearts are no longer beating. you do get tired, have the same physical needs, and it hurts when you're injured. you're not invulnerable. but you aren't quite alive and you aren't quite dead, either. and you look wrong. how you interpret this is up to you, but pale skin, cold to the touch, glossy unfocused eyes, stiff and a little jerky movements - all things that might start happening. and you also keep having the sensation that you aren't alone, that maybe you're being watched, stared at. here and there, you hear the whispers of the other dead you encountered in the cyoa, asking why you didn't help them, why you left them to rot, crying that they don't want to be dead. three of you may even hear something that sounds like a heartbeat from time to time. ba-dum. ba-dum. ba-dum. far away, but maybe delilah isn't as destroyed as you thought. these effects will last through friday and will end before trial.
you also each come back with a little present! you'll each find a little doll, made of cloth and burlap and stuffed with hay with blank faces, decorated to look like you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
i. the journey
eventually, however, the dense trees start to clear little by little. you can see that you’ve wandered much farther than should have been possible. there are mountains springing up, both ahead and behind you, a tall and looming range of white rocked peaks from a range that looks impassable. at some point during this journey, some of you find each other; perhaps you’re relieved that you aren’t alone here, and perhaps you help one another make it through the difficult and long day of walking or try to navigate. or maybe you’ve been alone all day, and you’ve only just now stumbled upon the others who have also been lost. that’s up to you.
what’s clear now the only way ahead is to follow where the trees start to clear, giving way to patches of farmland, and, further ahead, a medieval city. there’s a little town made of thatched cottages and farmhouses, walls with towers meant for archers and soldiers to sit and wait, and beyond, up on a hill, is a castle built from gleaming white brick that looks somehow grimy all the same. there’s also, in the center of town, a massive oak tree, visible even from this distance. the city doesn’t look welcoming. the dark gray clouds still hang heavy in the air, and the pale colors of the stone and brick of the city give a mostly monochrome effect, broken up only by the colors of mud and dirt. there’s a chill in the air, and you don’t see any people about. there should be farmers tilling the land, but the patches of crops look withered; the little cottages seem abandoned, and there’s a smell like vegetable rot hanging heavy in the air. the city ahead of you, from what you can make out, would normally be bustling with shops and travelers and activity, or even simply manned by guards, but you don’t see anyone.
but the gates to the city are open. there’s a path that heads directly through them towards the center of town, towards the castle and the tall tree. you have a bad feeling about this place. it seems dead, and there’s something malevolent about it, too. but you’ve been walking for so long, and the fog hanging heavy in the woods, creeping close behind you, at least does not seem to stop at the edge of the city walls. maybe you can rest here.]
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So when he reaches the center of the town, he tries to break into one of the buildings. He's thirsty. Give him some water!! ]
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The unease doesn't stop when the city and the mountains come into view, but at least the sight of Pickles bounding on ahead is a welcome distraction, and he hurries after him.
... But doesn't approach. He hangs back, and just watches Pickles do whatever Pickles is doing, because he's still suspicious of everything. What if Pickles had been evil this entire time. ]
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all the way down to being unwelcoming. at least this is more familiar to him than most of what the village of scawwy has given them.
he sees the others and perks, hand behind himself and prepared to draw on any dangers but relieved to see familiar faces. ]
... is it just us? [ asked quietly, because. the energy is terrible here. gods, it really, really reminds him of somewhere back home... ] No townsfolk? No guards?
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ii. todomatsu
and today is a very special day. you wake up aware of something very exciting that's going to happen today. you were invited to something very exclusive, and you were the only one of your brothers to get an invitation.
what is it you were invited to?]
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much more importantly, this evening is the biggest mixer he's ever scored an invitation to! with so many girls in attendance (surely some of them are a little bit desperate) and none of the anxiety that comes up with being put on the spot during smaller events, he really thinks this is going to be it — the first big step on the path to losing his virginity and becoming a respectable adult!
he's already checked out the social media accounts of some of the girls he knows are going to be there so he can see what kinds of things they like and craft his identity accordingly. he's already memorized the discography and upcoming concert dates for a band one of them professes to love, even though he's never actually listened to a single one of their songs and wouldn't have the money to buy a concert ticket even if he cared to. that's not important. all that matters is that she likes the person she thinks he is, and he's ready to make that happen. ]
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he probably could also ask about securing an invite for some of his brothers if he wanted to? it might be a nice event for them to attend, too. but that's up to him!]
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the exclusivity of this guest list just solidifies that there is absolutely no way he's bringing any of his brothers to this thing, or even telling them it's happening. he remembers how his mixer auditions had gone all those years ago, and how horrifically things went the time he actually did let osomatsu come along. (fuck if he's going to end up scrubbing his ass with scallops in front of people with actual social clout.) their very existence is a sword of damocles threatening to drop down on the throne of his social life, and the best shot he has at fitting into this scene is to pretend they don't exist at all. ]
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ii. pickles
there's a soreness in your side, but you don't need any blood or injuries.
and you can smell something familiar. you don't know exactly where you are, but you can smell something that leads you to believe you can go somewhere safe, somewhere that feels like home, if you just walk a little further and follow that scent.
what is that scent, and where are you going?]
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He stretches despite the sore side he feels and gets a whiff of something very familiar: Kenkel's crackers and a bowl of canned short ribs... It's his typical breakfast back home, prepared by Charlton. Right. There's no way Charlton would be dead. All of that was surely just a nightmare, even though Pickles has no idea why he woke up in the forest.
Pickles will go home, the little apartment where he lives with Charlton and Wendy. He can't wait to tell Wendy of what he dreamed, but he will make sure to leave out the violent details. ]
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ii. geto
you wake up?
the darkness fades away from your vision. for a moment, you were nothing. nothing enough that you wonder if that's what death must feel like? you consciousness slipping away entirely, dispersing, until you don't even have any thought or form. and then suddenly it all rushes back, but it's different now. you feel different.
your body feels cold and stiff. it doesn't move right. you still feel the squeeze around your throat, enough that you wonder whether gojo's hands are still squeezing the life out of you. but if you blink your eyes open, there's no one there.
no one at all. you're at the base of the tree, but alfyn isn't there with you, and you don't see gojo's body crumpled behind you. and all of those memories feel surreal. the village of scawwy, your life, all of it is a jumble, where you aren't sure what's real and what was a nightmare. there's a part of you that feels like you've always been here, in this place, and this is the only thing that's real.
if you turned around, perhaps you'd still see those bodies hanging from the limbs of the tree, and that would tell you what you'd imagined and what was real? but a thought comes to you suddenly. you must not turn around. the tree is behind you, but you must not look at it. if you look at it, you'll see something you're not sure you can bear.
what do you do? do you examine yourself? do you flee, get farther from whatever is behind you? do you try to turn around and look despite your better instincts?]
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It's quiet, and despite the dread that sits heavy in his chest and belly, that affords him a second to sort through his thoughts. Even if they don't make any sense. He can't quite remember what he is or what he's supposed to do, there's only fear: don't look at the tree, and Satoru is gone.
He has to keep a cool head. He'll take a quick look over himself—is the blood still on him?—and then push himself up, unsteady and confused. ]
Someone needed help.
[ He remembers vaguely people crying for help, and that he's supposed to help people in need, so he'll start making his way toward the castle where those voices were last heard. ]
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in general, though, he just doesn't feel quite like himself. it's odd and hard to place. there's sort of a pounding in his head. it sounds like a heart beat, beating slowly. ba-dum. ba-dum. ba-dum. but it isn't the sound of his own heart.
he can head towards the castle. there do appear to be people on the road, now - not the guards, but villagers. he could ask them for more information.]
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ii. alfyn
you wake up?
the darkness fades away from your vision. for a moment, you were nothing. nothing enough that you wonder if that's what death must feel like? you consciousness slipping away entirely, dispersing, until you don't even have any thought or form. and then suddenly it all rushes back.
you're in your bed in a cottage. you remember scawwy, you remember the tree, but all of that feels like a jumbled nightmare. you're not sure if any of that was real or just a dream. and now you're where you belong, in your home, in this small medieval city where you are trusted to treat the sick and care for the injured. it's a city made of white bricks isolated behind a mountain range. and if part of you has memories of belonging somewhere else, similar but not the same, you've never really known why.
it's time to get up. surely you have patients to attend to. and there's a knocking at the door - perhaps it's someone in need.
what do you do? do you take a moment to think about what happened, or do you get to work?]
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but none of it is here, in this humble cottage in the white walls of this familiar city. just home sweet home. it almost feels like the nightmare is leaving him, so maybe that's all it is - his mind making up new people, new troubles, giving him a scare. ]
Shucks... alright, okay. Face the day, Greengrass. [ the grip on the axe relaxes as he swings his legs around, rising to stand and ignoring the fact that he fell asleep in his clothes once again. it goes to its place in the back of his belt, before he grabs his satchel and heads to the door, drawling - ] Comin'! I gotcha, friend, just a moment.
[ he's a scruffy looking healer, and knows it, so he doesn't bother fixing himself up too much more. what if it's an emergency? he can't let a bad dream stop him from helping someone.
he opens the door, ignoring the post-nightmare dread still knotted just below his adam's apple. ]
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at the moment, he looks to be in a rush.]
There's a problem at the castle. We need a healer. Can you come?
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ii. alfyn and pickles
alfyn, when you look at pickles, you see a monster. a dead, rotting creature with mangy fur falling off in black and white clumps, glazed eyes, big fangs. entrails dangle from the wounds on his side and he smells like decay. there's nothing about this animal to remind you of the dream you once had, a lifetime ago, of an adventure with a cute little dog named pickles.
pickles, the smell of this man is a little familiar, but you can't place it. he reminds you of blood and knives and a horrifying nightmare you once had about a tree and charlton's body swinging from a noose. there's something about him that gives off a malevolent aura; part of you wants to run.
but both of you have also been alone for a long time, and now you're here, in this space together. what do you do?]
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Maybe.
Though the the other person's reaction will decide Pickles's next action. ]
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but the creature doesn't do anything. so, he stops - because most things just attack him, or scream, or run away.
he thinks of matilda. and the voice that he can hear when he's most alone.
whatever happened to him, it wasn't her fault. she was a catalyst, yes, but it wasn't by her choice. she didn't want to disappear. ]
... hey, buddy. [ it's been a long time since he's spoken softly to anyone but matilda, he thinks. but he does now. and, as he does, he lifts his hand away from where his axe is behind him, holding it up to show that it's empty, that he comes in peace. ] I'm not gonna hurt you, if you don't hurt me. Alright?
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iii. the boughs
the fog creeps in around you, and the night is pitch black, but there's a strange purple light, like an aurora, dancing and taking shape in the fog. the scent that hangs heavily in the air is of death. rot, like plant decay, but also the stench of blood and rotting corpses as well.
the massive tree no longer looks just like a tree to you; it's some sort of monster or spectre haunting this entire realm. and it's feeding, devouring the light. for pickles, geto, and alfyn, there's a sense of being drawn towards it. for todomatsu, there's a feeling of being pushed away. but either way, this is something alive and sentient.
all of you have clearer memories now. you remember your lives and you remember the village of scawwy. you remember what you saw on the tree and in the castle, and then how abruptly you shifted to another memory, another life, that didn't quite fit with anything that came before. you still have the objects you brought with you from your recent journey, however - alfyn, you have the doll, todomatsu, the knife you used to kill atsushi, geto, a blood soaked spear made of wood, pickles, a knife soaked in poison herbs. you can also feel the connection you have with your magic - your true abilities. totty, you don't have anything, both because you canonically don't and for another reason.
from the tree, dozens of ropes are hanging. you can see a few corpses hanging that you don't recognize, but you also see charlton, primrose, gojo, jyushimatsu, marina, rondo, camille, robin. all dead, swinging from the branches, wearing shapeless rags.
a flicker of the dark purple light sparks across the ground and begins to swirl into a torrent of ominous power that rises and coalesces into another shadowy form, a scattered, amethyst being of swirling haze and evil presence that begins to take the form of a woman, a silhouette that is familiar at this point to all of you.]
Welcome, welcome. I'm sorry for the deception, my dear little ones. But there's no need to be afraid. All of you want to leave this realm and return home, I'm sure. And I have the same goal. The fastest path to my interests lie in yours as well. I'm sure we can help one another, can't we?
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Does his body still feel weird and not his own? He'll look over his hands too, to see if there are still spots of rotted skin.
And then he looks over at the other three. ]
Did you kill someone?
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yeah, that's kind of what happens to alfyn as he stares up at the tree and realities collide. and he has to reckon with the fact that miguel's blood is on his hands twice, with the terrible sensation of bile at the back of his throat that he has to try and keep down. it didn't bring him joy the first time - it doesn't bring him joy this time, despite what the rage boiling over brought him to do. ]
... yeah. [ it comes out in a croak, throat tight. he's quickly checking geto, todomatsu - and then down to pickles, reaching out for the dog. IS HE STILL ZOMBIFIED? still, he has the wherewithal to say: ] ... I don't want any more help if it comes at the cost of others' lives.
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iv. wrap
when you return, all four of you find yourselves slightly changed. you may not look quite as monstrous as you did on your journey, but you come back a little wrong. you may find, here and there, that your bodies are no longer breathing, your hearts are no longer beating. you do get tired, have the same physical needs, and it hurts when you're injured. you're not invulnerable. but you aren't quite alive and you aren't quite dead, either. and you look wrong. how you interpret this is up to you, but pale skin, cold to the touch, glossy unfocused eyes, stiff and a little jerky movements - all things that might start happening. and you also keep having the sensation that you aren't alone, that maybe you're being watched, stared at. here and there, you hear the whispers of the other dead you encountered in the cyoa, asking why you didn't help them, why you left them to rot, crying that they don't want to be dead. three of you may even hear something that sounds like a heartbeat from time to time. ba-dum. ba-dum. ba-dum. far away, but maybe delilah isn't as destroyed as you thought. these effects will last through friday and will end before trial.
you also each come back with a little present! you'll each find a little doll, made of cloth and burlap and stuffed with hay with blank faces, decorated to look like you.
goodbye!]
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just one last thing for the four of you. see you back home soon. ]